Author's Note: The chapter title is different below, because that's what I wanted it to be, but...well, it was a bit too long. My sister agreed to make a cover for this story, which I'm very excited about. Hey, Maya! You're probably not reading this right now, but I hope you guys had fun on your choir trip!
Anyway, I've chosen an arena idea and now, well, you know that feeling when you get an idea, and then many others fall into place around it? Well that happened! I hope you guys are going to like it as much as I do, but we have a little while before we get into the arena, you know, all the Capitol stuff. Hopefully all that will be just as interesting though, with the other ideas that filled in after the arena.
Well, I'd better stop before I give something away. I don't own the Hunger Games trilogy. My little ideas have yet to be that brilliant.
Chapter Seven - Choices, Capitol Eyes, Cheesecake, and Allies
This is so unfair. I think to myself. So completely unfair.
I know I'll need to get over this thought to move on, so I keep at it. Somehow, I'm not sure that that is the way to go about it, but I don't care.
Unfair, Capitol. Unfair, Volunteers. Unfair, Cassius. Unfair, Annie.
Annie. That's the one that's really going to hurt. Does my friend really not want me to come back? Between me and her cousin, aunt and uncle, she chose them. I understand of course, why she did it, but it doesn't mean that I accept it. Does she not understand the cost of this promise, what it will really mean to follow through?
I think then, of Cassius's parents, and a bit more understanding enters my mind. Not acceptance, understanding. Cass' parents are wonderful, supportive, and kind. But fragile, they are very fragile. A single misplaced word can send them flying through nightmare after nightmare from a past they refuse to explain. I spend quite a bit of time with Cass' family as well as Annie's, but I never understood their pain.
I could never kill Cass, not after all these years. I don't know how they've trained him at that gym, but I'm worried he'll kill me as easily as a bloodbath tribute, without batting an eye, moving on before my cold, dead body hits the ground, before my blood can stain his shoes.
I don't know. Maybe I'm judging him completely wrong, maybe this is all just for show, for we have only been on camera together since we were entered in the Games. Yes, I hope that's it. He can't really be like this, or I've never known Cassius Achille.
I won't kill Cassius, but hopefully it doesn't come down to that. Maybe he'll be hunted down by one of the other Volunteers when the pack breaks up. He'll join them, I'm sure. At least at first. I wonder if they'll take me; I'll need to stay close to Cass if I'm to protect him as long as I can.
But, how long can I protect him? If it comes down to us, the final two, could I still protect him. Would I be able to?
Unfair, Games. Unfair how they force old friends to kill each other, unfair how they tear families apart. And not just the Achilles. What about the other tributes? I understand what Brooke said about the other Volunteers, it is their own fault they are where they are and that they're doing what they're doing. Sure. But what of the outer districts? What of the people who were reaped, like me, and are just trying to get back to their families? How can I ruin not only their lives, but their families, their friends. People who I don't even know exist could be ruined by my actions. Unfair to us all.
Finnick soft knocking at my door interrupts my anger. Dinner. And Cass.
Fantastic. I think, as I call to tell him I'll be right over. I shower as quickly as I can, pressing random buttons. By the time I finish, I'm freezing and burning on random places all over my body and I smell like an entire Capitol garden and kitchen. Who knew that cinnamon lavender arms would smell so weird!
As soon as I step out, fans in the floor blow warm air around me and I'm dry in seconds, my hair untangled and flowing down my back, though it still smells like a mix of flowers and spices.
I look through my now gigantic closet and select a black knee-length skirt and a blue shirt that reminds me of the sky. I put my pearl necklace back on and head towards whatever hell is waiting for me in the dining cart.
Dinner is completely silent, besides the occasional comment from Zéle, who doesn't seem to sense the tension in the room and continues to chat with no one. He's made remarks from everything about the Capitol to District Four's weather, and no one else has given more than a few words in response to his various questions. That is, until he asks about my eyes.
"You must have been to the Capitol before, my dear, haven't you?" he asks me suddenly.
I look over, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?" I say, carefully. Right now, I have good reason to despise everything about the Capitol, from Zéle's skin to the train itself.
Zéle, continues, skipping over the stiffness in my reply. He's probably just pleased I replied at all. "Well, your eyes, dearie! Surely you had them done at one of our salons! I don't know why you didn't want to do anything else though, you could have used it."
I feel my face getting red and angry. Not that he thought I was ugly for seeming "natural", but my eyes. Does he really think I'd loved his Capitol so much as to want to copy their styles? Finnick looks at me warningly from across the table, probably sensing what's coming. But I don't care. I tell Zéle exactly what I think.
"Do you really think," I say slowly, volume rising with every word. "that I'd love your Capitol so much as to want to copy your styles? They look stupid! Why, if I even had the money for it, would I waste it on looking like a freak? You know what we do with any money with get in the districts, Zéle? We try to keep our families from starving to death, not keep them from being a fashion crime."
The table is silent. Not even Zéle speaks anymore. It seems my outburst left him in a state of complete shock, his mouth wide open, eyes bulging, not even able to eat any of his precious Capitol food, which, I hate to admit, is delicious. We're eating what appears to be stuffed tuna, filled with a spicy sauce that leaves your tongue burning. It's delicious, I've never had anything so filling in my entire life, although, for all I know, I might have fished this tuna from our waters myself. How weird that would be, for me to be feeding myself in the future, preparing myself for slaughter before I knew I was going to be slaughtered. I know some of the people I sell fish to send it off to the Capitol, but I don't know where it ends up after that. It might have ended up on all the tributes plates today. How odd, for me to be feeding the people, the children I will need to kill in a week, unknowingly. I blink, and give myself a shake, as if it will expel the thought from me. I can't be thinking like that now.
I look over at Zéle. He's sort of recovered from my outrage earlier, trying to pick up his conversation again. I sigh. It's not his fault I'm here, he probably doesn't even know what happens in the Districts, that we don't live like they do. I think of his merman's costume, how he seems to want us to like him. I sigh inwardly, again. It's not his fault I'm here, he's innocent.
"They're natural. My eyes." I say finally, into the tablecloth.
Zéle looks up, and his gaze relaxes a bit. He nods, quietly, and looks back down at his food. I guess it's going to take more than that for his forgiveness. I'm about to say something when his curiosity seems to take over, his anger vanishing from his face.
"Really?" he asks, peering at me. "Natural?"
I smile, relieved at this kindness at hadn't expected.
"Yes, I was very lucky to get them. We don't have the treatments that you do in the Capitol back home to make us look so nice." I add. I figure a bit of sucking up is necessary, seeing what I had said before.
He smiles back. "Thank you. You are lucky, you know. Those eyes will give you an edge."
I'm shocked by this. My eyes have never done me any good. "Really?"
"Oh yes. The Capitol citizens will just love you for them. I'd say you have a good amount of sponsors in the bag already, because of them."
"And sponsors can make the difference between life and death." Nereida, who's been quiet this entire time, chimes in. "Just ask Finnick." It's true. If it weren't for his crowds of sponsors, Finnick probably wouldn't be sitting across from me today. His vigorous nodding, through his pile of tuna fish, confirms it.
He swallows and says, "Very true. Now, we'll be in the Capitol by sometime before lunch tomorrow. You two," looking at me and Cassius, who's taking in as much mentor advice as he can, even if the mentor in question is three years younger than him. ", you two should watch the reapings. Know what you're up against."
Cass basically sprints to the couch in the TV room beside us, leaving the dessert plates, which just arrived in the dust. Finnick, Zéle, Nereida, and I look at each other, then grab as much dessert as we can hold before following him.
Cass has already found the remote for the television and it is broadcasting the start of the District One reapings already. He looks eager, almost savage as he watches his competition and possible allies take the stage in District One. It's disgusting. I go to sit in a chair beside the couch, one with a table in front of it where I can sort through my desserts.
Cassius seems to be trying to memorize every detail about each tribute. I'm paying attention, but not too much. Only if one is very different. I don't want to get to know these people that well. Good thing I had the foresight to bring food. If anything can distract you from something like this, it's delicious Capitol cheesecake.
Through my mountain of cakes and cookies, I manage to remember a couple of details. A young boy from 3, who must be twelve but looks more like ten. The regular Volunteers from One, Two, and Four, except for me, but I'm glad to see I still look strong. A scary looking 17-year-old boy from Six gets called up sometime around when I finished my food. The fact that he looks so terrifying is helped by the wide path made from him by his fellow 17-year-olds. When he gets to the stage I register the grin on his face and the wideness of his eyes. I wonder if he might not be entirely sane.
The rest of the outer districts pass by fairly normally after 6, with the exception of the girl from 7, who's arm is in a makeshift sling, and the poor boy from 9, who faints when he's called. I pity them both, starting the Games with a weakness, especially the boy after Cassius starts to laugh at him. I'm seriously reconsidering my promise when Nereida clicks the TV off and tells the two of us to get to bed.
"Get some sleep while you can." she says seriously. "And watch out for that boy from Six, I didn't like the look of him."
Cassius and I walk off towards our rooms together. The hallways are dark and quiet and I realize this is the first time we've been alone together since the stage. Without cameras capturing our every move.
I look up at Cass, but he keeps his gaze straight ahead, his expression clear and blank. He'll join those Volunteers from One and Two I saw on the screen, no doubt. Then I wonder if they'll let me in, or if Cass will be joining them in hunting me down.
We're about to split off to go to our separate rooms when Cassius finally looks over at me, and I want to sigh with relief. His eyes, his expression, they're finally the way he looked before the Games, the way I knew him to be.
"Allies?" he asks quietly.
"Of course." I agree, instantly.
His small smile becomes a smirk. A teasing one, like all those times back home in Four. "You smell wonderful, by the way. I see you've tried the showers."
He grins, then turns and walks into his room. I watch him go, then turn and close my own door behind me. I flop onto the bed, exhausted, confused, and still in my new Capitol clothes, wondering what the next day will hold.